


Portraits of The People We Were Pretending to Be

by UselessLesbianLaughter



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Romance, F/F, First Kiss, Fix-It, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Kissing, Lena Luthor Knows Kara Danvers Is Supergirl, Lena Luthor Needs a Hug, Lesbian Lena Luthor, Light Angst, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Pining, Romance, Second Kiss, Song: I Kissed a Girl (Katy Perry), SuperCorp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:39:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23058628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UselessLesbianLaughter/pseuds/UselessLesbianLaughter
Summary: Lena remembers the first time she kissed Kara vividly, despite being blind drunk when it happened. She also remembers how Kara said she had been so drunk she had no recollection of that night and Lena, not knowing she wasn't human and couldn't get drunk off of alcohol alone, had believed her.Now, in the whirlwinds of betrayal, she realizes she's been lied to yet again. And this is worse because Kara might've genuinely believed that she was protecting her by hiding her identity but this, this had obviously been a lie of convenience.Little does she know, it wasn't. It was the lie that was supposed to protect her not from the world but from Kara herself, from the feelings she was too afraid to admit to.A kettle overflows and ruins Lena's stove.Also functions as a rewrite of the 5x13 balcony scene.
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 13
Kudos: 245





	Portraits of The People We Were Pretending to Be

**Author's Note:**

> i am also working on my bigger WIPs but this is one of the many one-shots i will be posting in the meantime

Lena Luthor had fallen in love with all of her vices in different ways but one factor always remained the same– she _loathed_ the smell of them on her breath. Whether it was the cigarettes she’d quit after graduating, the whiskey she still substituted for a therapist or Kara Danvers’ scented-but-not-flavoured chapstick, a patented artificial cherry, still faintly on her lips when she woke up in Kara’s bed ( _alone_.)

She had the worst hangover she’d had in ages and a glass of water and a Tylenol were waiting for her on the bedside counter. They had been left there by no other than the infamous Kara herself, who’d slept on the couch and was feigning nursing a hangover so terrible she had no recollection of the past night.

And despite her lacking acting skills and nervous energy, Lena wanted to believe her so she did. Perhaps if she wasn’t so blinded by her own shame over her drunken boldness, she would’ve seen past the exaggerated headache and nausea Kara complained of, perhaps if she had been born in the Palaeolithic age in southwestern France, she would’ve painted some deer on the walls of the Lascaux caves, either was equally plausible.

In fact, it was not until several months into knowing Kara was Supergirl that Lena realized that it had been a lie. To be fair, it had been years since it happened. To be fair, she had been preoccupied with more important matters but this, this was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

It had been a gloomy night, one of those semi-purposefully poorly coordinated nights when it simply happened to be just the two of them. And Lena had been drinking, more than usual, more than she knew she could handle. She was dating James at the time and drinking more than she could handle was becoming a habit. That always seemed to happen when she tried to date men.

They had gone out against Lena’s better judgement, bar-hopping like teenagers, trying the special in every avenue they found and having a blast. They tried hot chocolate with tequila for God’s sake, a drink that Lena would’ve despised on any other night.

Kara, much like Lena, had drank an inhuman amount of alcohol. The trouble with that was, Kara was actually inhuman while Lena was far from, and that meant Kara’s playful drunkenness was a farce the entire night. And so they ran from bar to bar, hand in hand, laughing like kids, drinking like jubilarians with nothing to lose, in celebration of nothing but the dreadful night and each other’s company and life itself.

Things got out of hand as they tend to when one has a drink or twelve too many. It must be noted here that if _touch-starved latent lesbian_ was a term included in a dictionary somewhere, it would surely be accompanied by a portrait of poor Lena Luthor. And maybe it was that or the tequila hot chocolates or any other combination of factors but as the clock struck four past midnight, somewhere in the back of a darkened room full of sweating bodies rising and falling in rhythm to the blasting music, falling in and out of love, Lena’s lips were on Kara’s, her hands in her hair, lost in a kiss that felt _nothing_ like kissing the men she had tried and failed to love, felt nothing like _anything_ she’d ever known before, actually.

Kara’s trembling hand had snaked behind Lena’s neck, her lips moving in sweet, sweet unison with Lena’s, surely, surely the way straight girls with boyfriends kiss each other at bars for the amusement or attention, surely, the girls who sang along to _I kissed a girl_ at parties in 2008 instead of shrinking away from the crowd in fear that someone might find them out, hoping if they repress these feelings for long enough, pack them into enough little boxes, they will eventually go away on their own. Clearly, they had not. _Step 1: Admitting you’re a homosexual._

It should be noted at this point that Kara’s perspective on things was vastly different. It was true that she hadn’t thought of Lena that way before, or at least she thought she hadn’t. The only sober soul in the night, now that Lena had kissed her, more than ever, it became clear to her. It all clicked into place. Because _of course_. But Lena was drunker than Kara had ever seen her, so drunk Kara had been steering her away from the bar for the past hour or so (and look where that got her.) And surely, surely, this was one of those mistakes one makes when drunk. And of course, things couldn’t go any further, though Kara was quite sure Lena had just propositioned her, it was hard to tell amidst all the noise, because Lena was drunk and Kara, being a decent person, would not sleep with people who were in no state to give consent. So, she took her home instead and insisted on taking the couch. Lena tried to object but was too tired from the drinking and the dancing and the sheer pining of it all to go on for long and ended up passing out on Kara’s bed anyway. Kara tucked her in and laid down on the couch but couldn’t sleep.

And in the morning, the shame reflected in Lena’s eyes almost as vibrantly as the green of her irises and Kara decided to spare her. Because clearly, she was right about Lena having made a drunken mistake and if she just repressed these feelings for long enough maybe they would go away on their own. They had to, right? Clearly, they didn’t.

But poor, clueless Lena, blinded by betrayal, couldn’t even fathom considering such a possibility. Instead, it became the final straw, became what broke her. Because Lena could handle just about anything. She could handle rejection, she could handle being insulted, hated and avoided, but she could not handle being lied to. That was the last sting of the betrayal of Lena Luthor, the final act that culminated in her telling Kara the truth and running off with Myriad _. Et tu, Brute?_

And she didn’t mention it because how could she? It would have been like rubbing salt into an open wound. And maybe that wound would’ve scabbed over eventually if Kara, if Supergirl didn’t keep appearing wherever she went. She was inescapable.

It wasn’t just the terrible feelings that wouldn’t leave her alone no matter how hard she tried to push them into little boxes, it was the knowledge that Kara had lied to her not just about being Supergirl, not just when she had deemed it necessary or righteous somehow, but when it was convenient for her. How many other times had she lied out of convenience? The question kept her up at night, she assumed Kara slept sound. It should be noted at this point that Lena’s assumptions about Kara were often clouded by her feelings of betrayal and should not be taken as truthful depictions.

But who could blame Lena for not knowing what Kara was feeling when she had no way to tell which parts of Kara had been truthful and which ones a farce.

Who was Kara Danvers? Her best friend of four years, the one person she trusted, the one person she had opened up her heart to against her better judgement, her hero, the straight best friend she’d fallen desperately in love with, the way one tends to fall off a cliff, screaming and clawing for a branch to hang onto, finding none. Supergirl. Traitor. Kara Zor-El. Liar. Falling out of love with her was like trying to empty a well with a sieve. She wanted to hate her, maybe she did. Hating someone seldom sufficed to make one fall out of love with them.

She missed Kara’s chapstick on her lips, the softness of her skin underneath hers, the silk of her hair threading through her fingers, and she never wanted to see her again and she was the only thing she ever wanted to see again. Most of all, she was tired.

So when Supergirl showed up on her balcony once again, her balcony that had never been an entrance and couldn’t that woman learn to use a door for once, Lena was, most of all, tired. She’d just put the kettle on to brew a calming tea that she knew would fail to calm her and she’d give up and turn to whiskey, another night spent numbed. When it came to picking her poisons, Lena always chose best. And there she was, what was it this time, another monologue, another crisis? Another plea for forgiveness?

“Not this time,” Kara said, a gentle shake of her head, the sway of her bangs, “I recognize I made a mistake,”

“A lot of mistakes,” Lena bit back.

Ignoring that, Kara continued, “I recognize I made a mistake in hiding my identity from you for so long but the past is the past and I can’t change it. Forgive me or not, that’s your choice. Just like it's your choice to work with Lex. I'm done blaming myself for your bad decisions,” Kara asserted with newfound confidence.

“You really think that was your only mistake, don’t you?” Lena said, and she wouldn’t have said had Kara chosen any other night to show up, she wouldn’t have said it if she’d come in through the door or after she’d finished making tea or before she’d started, wouldn’t have said it if she wasn’t so bloody tired, “You really think I’m just mad because you didn’t tell me you were Supergirl?” Lena quirked her immaculately manicured eyebrows and laughed so bitterly she could taste it. She took a step closer to Kara, then another, slowly closing the distance between them, “You did so much more than that,” her features grew dark as she stepped out of the light, “you lied to me, every single day. You said one thing as Kara, then turned around and said another as Supergirl, all in cold blood. Tell me, how am I supposed to know which one was the real you? And how many times did you take advantage of my naïveté to lie, just to make your life easier? Tell me, because I have no other way of knowing.”

Kara bit her lip, “Never. I never lied to you when it wasn’t necessary to protect you.”

Lena laughed again.

“Oh yeah? How about the time Kara told me she would always protect me while Supergirl was teaming up with Alex against me behind my back? Or when you called me your best friend while keeping me, just me, in the dark while _everyone else_ knew,” she looked down, her breath trembling. When she lifted her gaze again she couldn’t bring herself to meet Kara’s again, instead she looked up to keep the bitter tears stinging her eyes from falling, “how about the time you kissed me, stone cold sober, and pretended you didn’t remember? Were you _protecting_ me then?”

Kara, with her lip trembling and tears stinging her eyes, could hardly bring herself to reply, “Yes,” she whispered, the air leaving her lips turning to smoke in the freezing night air.

“From what?” Lena spat.

“From myself,” Kara said so quietly Lena wouldn’t have heard her if she wasn’t standing painfully close.

“Bullshit,” Lena whispered back and tried to laugh but since she was on the verge of tears and there was no air left in her lungs, she ended up making the sound of an old creaky faucet being turned off instead.

“It’s true. I was afraid,”

“Afraid of what?” Lena demanded.

“Of how much I,” Kara’s voice broke. She couldn’t be here, she couldn’t be telling Lena this. This was not the conversation she had come here to have so why couldn’t she stop the words from coming out like a kettle overflowing, left, forgotten, on a stove by a person with more important things on her mind, whistling in the background, demanding attention, left ignored, “I hate you.”

“Yeah,” Lena breathed, “I can tell.”

“I hate you for the way you make me feel so out of control, I hate that I need you, I hate that I want you, I hate that I love you, I hate that I can’t stop no matter how many times you tell me you’ll never forgive me for what I did, I hate you for not being able to hate you,” she wiped a warm tear from her cheek, “I hate how close you let me get and I hate myself for ruining it because I was afraid. I’ve always been afraid of how you make me feel.”

Thunder crackled somewhere in the distance and it began to rain. The doors to Lena’s penthouse remained wide open, her stove was drowning in boiling water, soon to be ruined, but neither of them made an effort to move out of the rain into the warmth and safety of the apartment.

“That is a shitty way to say you love someone,” Lena said, her hair clinging to her face, hoping the rain would mask the tears streaming down her face.

“I know,” Kara nodded, “but it’s the only way I’ve got. I lied to you because,” she stuttered, hovering her fingers over Lena’s cheek, not daring to touch it, “because I love you,” she dropped her hand, “I know it’s not conventional.”

Lena breathed a laugh. “I’m so tired. Aren’t you tired?”

Kara looked up to the sky, the rain pouring down her face, now in the full formation of a storm, and sighed. She nodded. “So tired.”

“Would you like some fucking tea?” Lena asked, because she didn’t know how else to say what she so desperately needed to say.

“Lena, I’m so sorry,” Kara said, “the kettle is overflowing. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“Oh!” Lena breathed, looking behind her shoulder with sudden clarity, not moving from where she was standing, “Oh, it is!” And she laughed. Like summer rain, she laughed, like tears on a cheek, warm and salty, she laughed.

And Kara, smiling, asked her, “Could you ever forgive me?” she brushed strands of wet hair out of her face, “For not telling you about the kettle?”

Lena nodded. “Yeah. I think I will.”

“Today?”

Lena shook her head. “No. And not tomorrow, either.”

“But,” Kara begun with care.

“There are a lot of days after tomorrow,” Lena finished. Kara noticed she was shivering, the fabric of her burgundy sweater clinging to her skin.

Some people fall in love like going to sleep, nothing at first, then all at once, peaceful and comfortable, and don’t know to be grateful for it before morning rudely rips it from their arms. Some people fall in love kicking and screaming and crying, like falling off a cliff, at the wrong time in the wrong place with the wrong person and make it work anyway and thank whatever gods there may be for it every day. And morning never comes and nothing could ever ruin that.

Kara’s eyes fell down to Lena’s lips. They were trembling and the droplets of rain that have gotten stuck in the cracks were swaying along like a crowd at a concert. And they were still red, still perfect, still soft and tempting enough to warrant a warning label: _can cause dependence, addiction and overdose._

Lena bit her lip, “I should take care of that kettle.”

And in that moment, before she could turn around, Kara cupped her face and brought their lips together, kissing away the cold rain and the warm salty tears, and the wasted years and the ruined stoves and the overflowing kettles and the lies and the truths and _everything, everything, everything._

_Only you, only now._

_Only you, forevermore._

Lena, separating her lips from Kara’s only to breathe, her face still in Kara’s hands, her hands still in Kara’s dripping hair, said, “If you tell me you don’t remember this tomorrow, I’m going to kill you.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Kara smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> comments religiously appreciated


End file.
